Simple Act of Loving You
by FairyTale87
Summary: After their conversation is left unfinished in the kitchen, Pacey confronts Joey about what their relationship means. And although she says she'd choose true love over a soul mate every time, Capeside has a funny way of making people repeat the past. [Post series finale]
1. Her Heart was a Secret Garden

_Simple Act of Loving You_

_One_

'_Her Heart was a Secret Garden; His Heart was a Great Fortress'_

"You never got a chance to finish what you started saying earlier," he whispered, crossing his arms. He leaned in the doorway like a man whose heart had never truly been in one solid piece—he'd felt the fragments of heartbreak for so long, there was no such thing as finding total closure. Pacey Witter was strong—the strongest person she'd ever met. He had such an ability to be stable for others, that he forgot how to do it for himself; he'd exhausted all the power within, mending other people's wounds. He could flash a smirk, fake the smile, or say the perfect line, but he was always holding his shattered body together behind a thin layer of skin. His eyes spoke volumes; they spoke a language Joey Potter had never quite become fluent in. There were so many exceptions, so many dialects, that only Pacey could truly understand it. He'd built his armor out of tears and blood long before he could ever find out what complete innocence was. And that's what puzzled her about him. He was the most childish person she knew; the most reckless. Yet he was the one who was forced to grow up the fastest; the one who learned to mask pain before she or Dawson had ever learned the true definition. He stood in front of her now, completely prepared to brace the fatal and final blow to their tremulous relationship. She bit her lip.

"Pacey," she said warmly, rising from her seat and walking over to him. His eyes flickered to the ground. She stopped a few feet in front of him, beginning to feel the true distance that was sprawled between them. "You know my feelings. You always have; you've just never really believed them." She shrugged her shoulders, feeling like a sixteen year old little girl again. Pacey always had that affect on her. Of clawing past her layers of experience and years, and finding the shy Joey Potter that still lied beneath.

"What are you trying to say here, Jo?" his voice was hoarse. They'd all been through the wringer, these past few days. It felt like everything was ending. Deaths have a funny way of doing that to the human psyche. Jen was gone—the glowing, smiling, utterly alive and free Jen Lindley was gone. It somehow made sense that on such a gray day, everything else would fall apart right along with it.

"That I'd choose true love over a soul mate any day," Joey said, finally closing the distance between them. Cupping his face in her hands, she compelled him to look at her. Those stormy eyes of his were as unreadable as ever. They were a part of Pacey that Joey had memorized years ago, but had never fully grasped. They surprised her just as much as Pacey himself did. He made her feel alive in a way no one else could. "I want you, Pace. I always have." She leaned her forehead against his.

She could feel his laugh; that slight rumble in his chest, the soft, warm breath that tickled her cheek. It was a laugh just beginning to melt the ice that had been entrapping it for so long. He smiled at her, lifting his head from hers so he could look at her.

"Even when I walked away?" he asked. She nodded. "Even when _you _walked away?"

"Even then," she replied with a small smile. A smile that held an undeniable tinge of guilt. She'd run away from him so many times, that it was easier than actually facing her feelings. And that night at the dance, when everything was perfect, she had sprinted away with all the energy she had. He was finally the man she knew he'd always become—well, he was always a man she was proud of—but he was finally a man _he _could be proud of. And that terrified her. He'd always been what she wanted; but now, there was a new twist to their relationship. Pacey Witter was finally ready to believe that he was worth all of her love. And she'd repaid him by walking away. The coward in her had won. As she stood in front of him now, she promised herself she'd stay still. She was finally done running.

"Even when we fought?" His smile was quickly becoming a little smirk. Life was swiftly finding a way back into his demeanor. Joey knew that Pacey was still broken; she knew there were things they still needed to fix. But, she also knew that this was the start of a new beginning; that this time, their timing was finally right.

"Especially then," she replied with a laugh, echoing his words from that night they shared in Kmart. "But it's not about me wanting you when we endured the bad things. It's about how, good or bad, happy or sad, you're the one I always wanted to turn to; the one I always wanted to hug, or kiss, or laugh with, or just sit with. You're the one who can hear me, and understand me, even when I say nothing at all. And that's special to me, Pace. I want you, and love you, because you took the time to know me. Despite Dawson, despite expectations, and," she laughed, "despite me, you still took a shot at loving me, and figuring me out. No one else ever did that for me, Pace."

"I was stubborn," he said. "I'm still stubborn." He shook his head, licking his lips slightly. "Of course I fought for your affections, Jo. I mean, think about it: my rash personality mixed with your logical one was bound to send me on a collision course towards creating a relationship with you. I break the rules, and try to defy expectations as much as possible—and that usually lands me nowhere good. But you were the one thing I did right; the one thing that ended in making me a better person."

Joey let out a nervous laugh, subconsciously taking a step back from him. "You're making this sound like a goodbye." She ran her fingers through her hair, resisting the urge to start pacing back and forth. She wanted no more than to be close to Pacey; to wrap her arms around him, and never let go. But the runner in her was gaining momentum.

"I trapped you in that kitchen earlier, Jo. I made you face something that can't have an easy and quick solution." He dropped her gaze. "I don't know. Jen's death just triggered something in me. It triggered the pestering, forceful side of me that I've tried to keep from you for so long. I wasn't lying when I said I wanted you to be happy, no matter who that was with. But I think you got the impression I was trying to push you towards me."

"Pacey," she said, her voice raising a tad. "I want _you_, I love _you_. No one else. You didn't force me to think anything I didn't want to think. In fact, you just woke me up. You gave me that metaphorical true love's kiss, and woke me up. I've tried to move on from you for so long, but somehow it keeps leading me back here. Back to you and me, Pace. I don't want it any other way." She bit her lip, smirking. "So will you just kiss me already?"

He didn't even take a moment to respond, before he touched his lips to hers. They felt so right, so natural, so known. But at the same time, there was some new sense of life—some new vision he got in his head when he kissed her. The past didn't creep up in the back of his mind like it used to. He didn't feel like he had to deepen the kiss in an attempt to silence past heartbreak; both inflicted and endured. He could feel Joey's fingers tangling in his hair, and it made him shiver. The walls between them were finally completely torn down, and there was no going back.

Pacey was the first to pull away. Joey's lips had reddened, and her eyes had that sultry look. If he wasn't careful, he could still see the seventeen year old Joey Potter he had kissed for the first time on the side of the road. It amazed him how after everything they'd been through, she could still look at him the same way she did back before there was nothing between them but innocence.

"So what now?" She asked, biting her cheek. She leaned into him more, pressing his back tighter against the wall.

"Well," he said, playing with a lock of her hair, "now we take this little happy reunion back to my place, and flesh up some very pent up desire." He laughed, resting his head against hers. "Honestly, Jo? I don't know. I don't know where any of this leaves us."

"It leaves us together," she told him simply. "And happy."

"How boring is that, huh? I'm not about to be any simpleton Prince Charming, now, Toots," he said, finding his age old sarcasm. He'd buried it somewhere along the way, and could only ever find it again in flashes. But now, it had resurfaced. Pacey finally felt like the Pacey J. Witter he had abandoned so long ago.

Joey rolled her eyes playfully. "I've missed you, Pace," she said, placing a small kiss on his lips. Tightening her hold on Pacey, she looked up at him. "I guess we should tell everyone, right?" Joey asked it, almost as if she was looking for permission.

"Yeah, we should tell them." Pacey paused. "To answer that unspeakable question on the tip of the tongue, yeah we should tell Dawson." He gave her a knowing little smile, before slipping out of her arms and walking towards the bar. Taking the towel out of his back pocket, he began to wipe down the counter.

"You know I'm not going to magically change my mind when I see him, right?" she asked, walking up behind him and wrapping her arms around his torso. He relaxed into her embrace, and sighed.

"Yeah, I know, Jo." He turned around to face her, leaving the small white towel abandoned on the counter. "I didn't walk away because of that. I walked away because something dawned on me. This is finally it. This isn't high school anymore, with relationships as volatile as one of the many hurricanes that grace our coastline. And this isn't some tentative reunion that has a fate I'd rather not remember. This," he ran his hands down Joey's arms, "is _it_. What we've been trying to find all these years. And by telling Dawson, not only does it make it real; it also makes or breaks our friendship with him."

"Pacey, you can't honestly think he'll break like he did all those years ago." She laughed. "We're all older now. We all weathered the first storm. We'll all weather this one too. In fact, I don't think this is even going to be a storm. Dawson is our _friend_—we're not seventeen and irrational anymore."

"Just because we're older, doesn't mean our feelings have changed. Doesn't matter if we're sixteen or forty-five, the Pacey-Joey-Dawson love triangle isn't going to end. Some way or another, both me and Dawson are going to be those two teenagers racing each other at the infamous regatta of 2000."

Joey looked at him, puzzled.

"I'm ready and willing to put up with whatever Dawson's reaction is," Pacey continued, "I just want to make sure you are. I'm certainly not ready to let you go—in fact I can't let you go this time. If you decide I'm what you want, then that's it for me. But I can't keep fighting Dawson."

"You don't have to, Pace. I love you, and _I'm _not letting _you_ go. There is no lurking 'Dawson and Joey' anymore. Everything I want is standing right in front of me." She placed her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him. "So no more talk of Dawson, no more talk of uncertainty. It's all done, and all in the past. This time, it's all full steam ahead. No regrets."

He gave her that smile of his. That flare of little boy innocence that still lived within him. "You're something, Josephine Potter, you know that?"

"So I've been told," she whispered with a smile, leaning her head on his shoulder, and pulling him closer against her.

* * *

><p>So I started watching Dawson's Creek again, and had to vent my feelings. I know there are many 'post series finale' stories out there, but I thought I'd give one a shot. I hope the characters aren't too OOC, and I promise the next chapter(s) will be much more interesting. I just wanted to get a feel for everything.<p>

_Please tell me if you think I should continue!_


	2. Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

_Simple Act of Loving You_

_Two_

'_Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of'_

History hung in the air so thickly and tangibly, Joey felt that she could almost taste it. Taste the years of laughter, of love, of hurt, and of tears. So many mistakes had been made in this house, and the creek seemed to reflect them all, in the light that bounced off of it. For the first time Joey could remember, the quaint little white house that had always been a beacon of warmth, didn't feel like home. Years had scarred it, just as they had scarred her. As odd as it sounded, time had made Joey yearn for adolescence, rather than adulthood. In her childhood years, growing up was what had protected her. And that was why she had become friends with a dreamer—with someone who was her own personal Peter Pan. Dawson Leery would always have a childish heart. The type of heart that could never hurt Joey; not really, anyway. They were worlds apart, and met halfway. There was never any threat that Dawson would be the one to break her. But the same could not be said for her. Joey knew, all too well, that she could hurt Dawson—that she _had_ hurt Dawson. And as she approached him now, their entire history seemed to play out in front of her. She wanted to run. To have the excuse of teenage misunderstanding, to make up for her actions. To have popcorn and a movie in the bedroom by the window make everything okay. She knew it wasn't that simple anymore. It hadn't been that simple in some time.

Joey could see Dawson's golden hair gleam as she got closer to him. Despite the tired expression that was sure to have made a home on his features, she could always count on that little glimmer in his hair. The thing that reassured her that innocence was never entirely lost—that hope was what died last. And so she hoped, with all of her heart, that both she and he could walk away from this pending discussion unscathed. And most importantly, still friends. The thought made her shiver, and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself. Licking her lips, she stopped in front of the man with his back turned to her, laptop set upon his lap.

"Have an ending yet?" Joey asked, feeling her voice thick and hoarse. She saw Dawson's fingers flex as they hovered over the keyboard. He turned back to look at her, and gave a little smile. She took it as an invitation, and made her way around the bench to sit beside him.

"I've deleted more than I've added," he told her, rubbing a hand over his face. Sighing in what appeared to be defeat; he took the laptop from his lap, and set it behind him. "It's funny," he continued. "Losing Jen brought so much to light—made me realize so many things I'd been ignoring. And yet, the future seems hazier than ever." He supplied Joey with a humorless laugh, as he looked to her slowly.

"I don't think the future can ever really be clear, Dawson," she said. "And who would want it to be? It kind of takes the surprise out of life." She couldn't help but smile. If someone would have asked her a year ago where she'd be now, one of the last things she would have responded with would have been '_Capeside'_. And even farther down on the list would have been _'Talking to Dawson about how I had chosen Pacey'. _

"Life," Dawson echoed dimly. "The word seems really bittersweet now, doesn't it? I mean, out of all of us, Jen was the most alive." He paused, a brief smile sweeping across his face. "Well, Pacey could have contested her for the spot. But still. Jen had this life to her that I think we all envied to some degree. And now she's gone. Just like that. No rhyme or reason to it. It doesn't make sense."

"Unlike the movies, Dawson, death doesn't always serve some higher purpose." She said the words gently, for Dawson's sake, but as well as her own. She knew they had both experienced death before. But this one somehow carried so much more weight. "But I refuse to believe Jen died in vain. She taught us all so much, and effected us all far more than I think we can even begin to understand. Jen made you realize reality again, Dawson; helped you put things in perspective. She made Jack finally realize that he's loved, and also gave him a sweet baby girl. She made Pacey realize the happiness in himself. And me? She made me stop running." Joey wrung her hands together now, feeling her body tighten.

"From what?" Dawson raised an eyebrow, turning more towards her. He eyed her with a mix of caution and intrigue. Joey bit her lip, and looked to the ground. She felt like she was sixteen again.

"You, me, and Pacey's typical, usual, distracting, sordid love triangle ways," she responded quietly, echoing Dawson and Pacey's words from a few nights before. Joey looked up to the blonde beside her timidly. She was met with blankness. His lips were pressed together tightly, and his eyes followed her movements as she nervously tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I think we all ran away from it, at one point or another," he told her, his lips faintly curving in the direction of a smile. Joey nodded at him.

"Maybe, but I never stopped. I pushed it away, and would never face it. But Jen forced me to see it. To finally look at it straight on, and figure out what I wanted. For so long, it's been clouded by history, and expectation, and fear. Dawson, it broke us—all three of us. It destroyed friendships, and trust. I just—I didn't want to go back there. I tried to wipe my hands clean of all of it. But like they say, you can never escape your past." She let out a wistful laugh. "And I've finally realized that I don't want to escape it."

"That sounds very definitive," Dawson said. His hazel eyes glimmered in this light, and Joey was terrified she was going to take that from him soon. She'd always tried to bring Dawson out of his fantasies, but as she looked at him now, the last thing she wanted was for him to lose his eternal optimism. His signature hope in the world that somehow made reality easier to bear. But simultaneously twice as difficult.

"It is," she confirmed, biting her lip. "You know, when I was in the room at the hospital with Jen, she asked me who I would choose. You or Pacey. She'd asked it with such ease—like the answer would be simple. But we all know that simplicity and Capeside only coincide on a superficial level. I knew what to tell her, but I couldn't get the words out. And then I never got the chance to. That made it real, Dawson. Made the dream-like, faux naivety state we've all been living in disappear. And for the first time, my decision is clear, and unwavering. Losing Jen made me realize that regrets only hurt us, and living life fearing them, is no life at all, really."

"You're sounding like Pacey," Dawson said with a cautious laugh. "Joey, I'd hate to think that after all these years, you feel you can't tell me something. There was a time when we could understand each other so clearly, words were hardly necessary—not that that ever kept either of us from saying them. But I know that time is far in the past. We've been on different wavelengths for some time now. But I think we were brought back together again for a purpose; to regain something that's been lost to us. I will never stop believing in the concept of soul mates—and I hope that you can believe too. Because I love you, Joey. Despite all that's happened, that has remained true."

There he went again, presenting one of his Hollywood-ready speeches. Despite how warm the words made her feel, they didn't have the same effect on her that they used to. Joey no longer got lost in his pretty phrases and black and white film conception of romance. There was no spark to them, no spontaneity. Nothing that made her feel alive. Nothing that made her feel like Pacey made her feel. Pacey Witter spoke from the heart—acted on a sensation, and dealt with the whiplash later. Dawson spoke from a scripted version of his heart.

"I love you too, Dawson," she replied. It certainly wasn't a lie. In some form or another, she had always loved the boy that lived down the creek. "But the only thing we have left to regain is friendship. You have always been so gentle and kind. You're the boy who could make me smile by popping in a movie we'd both seen a hundred times, and still finding something to analyze in it. You're the boy who taught me why the saying 'the magic of movies' is cliché for a good reason. You were there for everything in my life, Dawson. But somewhere along the way, I think we forgot how to grow up together." She looked away from him.

"How do you mean?"

"It's just that, no matter how old we get, a part of us will still be fifteen and in your bedroom, having the same conversation over and over again. It's the curse of being childhood friends." Joey shook her head, feeling herself melt from within. When she pictured this conversation in her head, it was concise; straight to the point; no jagged edges. But her emotions had betrayed her, and now she was treading in dangerous waters.

"You're choosing him," he responded levelly, breathing out slowly. Tapping his finger on the bench they sat on, Joey stiffened at his movements. _Nothing had changed_.

"It's not a matter of choosing one of you over the other, Dawson," she told him tiredly. "I love him. He makes me feel something I can't feel with anyone else. He makes me happy, Dawson. Truly and utterly happy, no strings attached. I want to be able to feel that way. No guilt, no hesitation, and certainly no regret." Joey looked back down to his hand, which was now gripping the bench tightly. Gently, and somewhat cautiously, she placed her hand on his. Despite being inches from each other, she knew there were vast oceans of history and reality that lay between them. For two people who grew up side by side, distance was an all too common factor in their relationship.

"And I can't make you happy," Dawson surmised. He took his hand from under hers, running it down his thigh, and resting it on his knee. "Joey, despite my track record, I'm not under some quixotic interpretation of what's between us. I know that we might as well be worlds apart right now. But the fact is, we're not. We're here, in Capeside, next to each other. Even with everything that's tried to put distance between us, we still end up here. Dawson and Joey. Somehow, it always comes back to that. Please don't push me away, Jo, or tell me that there's nothing between us. I felt the sparks that night you stayed in my room, I felt the sparks on the dance floor, and I feel them right now. There's this inexplicable bond between us—something that I was so blind to for years. But my eyes are open, and there's nothing else I want."

"There is a bond," Joey told him. "I'd be lying if I said there wasn't. But despite that, and despite how much I love you, it's the kind of love that's placed perfectly in the past. You'll always have a piece of my heart, Dawson. My childhood is tied to you, and you've always been my best friend. But that doesn't immediately mean that we're meant for each other in the 'until death do us part' kind of way. Despite everything that you mean to me, and will always mean to me, I love Pacey. It's a kind of love that never has to be rekindled, or the kind of love you have to ease into. It's passionate, and intimate—straight from the heart. It doesn't have to be taught."

"And ours does have to be taught?" Dawson raised his eyebrow bitterly, sharply looking at her. Joey could see him putting up his defenses; combating her words with thoughts of beautifully scripted romances, and ride off into the sunset type happy endings. The dreamer in him refused to accept that Joey was putting their love to rest. That for the rest of her life, the idea of 'Dawson and Joey' would just be a memory. Something brought up at reunions, on a third glass of red wine. The reality bit Dawson harshly.

"We were told our whole lives that we were meant for each other, Dawson," Joey told him meekly. Despite how much she'd grown over the years, and how confident and firm she had become, she felt herself wavering. Subconsciously apologizing to Dawson for her actions, and breaking his fragile view of the world, just as she had done back in high school. "When you grow up like that, it's obviously something you think about; something you're taught, in a way, is right. But Dawson, we tried it; many times. And each time, we found a way to mess it up. We fell into the trap we always do; irreconcilable differences." Joey could feel tears coming to her eyes, and she hated herself for it. Hated how she hurt Dawson; hated how she hurt Pacey; hated how she hurt herself.

"It's funny you say that," Dawson told her blandly, "especially given the nature of the relationship you and Pacey had. You two fought more than anyone I've ever known. As kids, you would bicker, hit, and disregard the other so regularly that it was worrisome when you two didn't fight. But you and me; we worked, Jo."

"Dawson," she replied, blinking away the tears, and breathing deeply. "Yes Pacey and I fought—about a lot of things. But like I told him once, you have to read between the banter. We might differ when it comes to having pie or cake for dessert, but on matters of fundamental values and beliefs, we see eye to eye. You and me," she said, gesturing between them, "don't."

"Then I guess we have nothing left to say here," Dawson told her tensely, and rising from his seat. He was freezing over—protecting himself from her, in a way. "I'll be staying in Capeside for a few more days, so if you happen to change your mind, you know where to find me." Turning around to pick up his laptop, he gave her a sideways look before walking past her and back into his house. And just like that, Joey was locked out of her childhood—abandoned and forgotten in the reality which came crashing down around her, and trapping her in the rubble.

Biting her lip, the tears that had been glistening in her eyes began to freefall, streaming down her cheeks at such a fast rate, it alarmed her. She wrapped her arms around herself again, hugging her chin to her collarbone. The safety valves finally broke open, allowing days of anxiety and emotional stress to flood her body, and overpower her usually well balanced and well kept feelings. In a matter of days, she had lost both Jen and Dawson. Joey was familiar with loss—for years, she'd known what it was like to walk around with a part of her seemingly missing. She knew the hole would widen with Jen being gone. But what hit a strange chord in her, was the fact that with Dawson, she didn't feel any new emptiness. He'd left her empty some time ago. If anything, she now felt more whole. A certain man with sparkling blue eyes had found a way to patch her up, and make her feel more complete than she ever had. For the first time, Joey didn't have the _Edward_ _Scissorhands _motto '_Incomplete and all alone_' hanging over her head.

Straightening her now hunched back, she wiped away her tears with the sides of her index fingers, and took a breath. She knew she had done what was right; she'd finally released herself from the chains of life past. It was the beginning of a new era—one that would finally have the clean slates both she and Pacey craved so fervently.

* * *

><p>She made her way to the Icehouse in a daze. Her mind was trapped oddly between the realms of past, present, and future. Everything in her life came colliding into her reality, in one swift and violent motion. She knew from the start that coming back to Capeside was going to be difficult. That coming back for Gale's wedding was nostalgic shock enough on its own. But then there was Jen. And Pacey and Dawson. And the age old love triangle, that seemed to plague all three of them—haunt them in a way that had ghosts trailing them, whispering memories in their ears, and reminding them of what used to be.<p>

And despite laying that triangle formally in its grave, the sordid little shape still lurked in the back of her mind. Still tapped on her emotions, and made everything hazy and conflicted in her head. Joey ran a hand through her hair, and quieted all of her grueling thoughts. Instead she focused solely on her movements; solely on the way the wind wrapped itself around her, mildly and innocently. She took in the scent of Capeside. Let the memories it spurred fill her with joy rather than hesitation. For the first time in a while, she let Capeside be her home again. Let it be more than just some bearer of reminiscence and wistful afterthought.

Taking her eyes from the ground, the Icehouse stood in front of her. Some strange symbol of both the past and present. Just like Pacey. He'd always claimed that she was the one who wrecked him, but she could never keep herself from thinking it was actually the other way around. Every time he looked at her, a part of her safety net would come undone. Every time he kissed her, a part of her would start believing the world wasn't all bad. Every time he smiled at her, a part of her would find the abandoned and unlived childhood she'd long desired. He made her feel alive; and vulnerable. He made her grow up, while simultaneously reigniting the child inside of her. Pacey Witter made the dichotomies and uncertainties of life an adventure; something to adore, rather than banish. He made the pain go away.

She leaned in the doorway of his office, crossing her arms as she watched him work. The desk was cluttered with papers, and pens were strewn all over the place. A tiny basketball hoop made its home on one of the walls, and the basketball had somehow found its way under Pacey's desk, completely forgotten in the corner. And yet as she watched him rummage through papers, pencil loosely in his left hand, he seemed to know where everything was. One glance to the right, as he searched for something in particular, he caught her gaze. His smile was immediate. The serious and concentrated look that had painted his features was swiftly replaced with the bright boyish flare that glimmered in his eyes.

"Hard at work, I see," Joey said with a smile, pushing herself off the doorway, and walking farther into the room. Pacey swiveled in his chair a bit so he was facing her, and leaned back, twirling his pencil between his fingers.

"No rest for the wicked," he confirmed, with an amused smirk. "But I think I can squeeze you into my strenuous schedule." Pacey let out a laugh, dropping the pencil onto the desk, and Joey returned it just as warmly.

"Glad you could make time, Mr. Witter," she said, leaning her hands on the armrests of his chair. Biting her lip playfully, she closed the distance between them, placing a soft kiss on his lips. The spark was there—the metaphorical fireworks exploding crazily on her senses. She pulled back, studying his features. The strong jaw line sprinkled with stubble, the blue eyes that always reminded her of the clearest ocean, and the smile that was timeless. She sighed, remembering the tired and almost defeatist look which had ingrained itself on Dawson's face. Joey leaned her forehead lightly against Pacey's.

Noticing her change in emotion, he wrapped a hand around her waist, and guided her into his lap. She settled against him comfortably, leaning her head on his temple. "How'd it go with Dawson? Any Marlon Brando-esque calling out of your name? Or melodramatic running away, reminiscent of teen angst soap operas?" He let out a laugh, nudging her slightly. She responded with a smile, unable to resist Pacey's humorous approach to the situation.

"Much to the dismay of the _Days of Our Lives_ lovers out there, the drama was kept to a minimum. But that didn't stop us from parting on less than friendly terms." She sighed, taking her head from Pacey's, and turning to face him straight on. "You'd think that after all this time, we'd have moved on from this stupid love triangle scenario we got ourselves into. It's paralyzed us for so long, and put such a strain on all of our relationships. And yet we let it continue. I think we've upped masochism to a whole new level of twisted."

"I think that old habits die hard. And with Jen gone, we're all clinging to any sense of normalcy we can find. And as twisted as it may be, this little three way tango we've got going on, falls under the category of 'typical'." He supplied her with an apologetic look, and twisted his fingers around a strand of her hair. "And more than that, he loves you, Jo. He always has. We both have. And it's hard to let go of that love; impossible, even. You're one of the unforgettable ones, Joey. As much as it isn't a competition between the two of us, Dawson still feels like he's lost—lost you. You can't blame him for going down less than gracefully. I can promise you my reaction wouldn't have been much better. Apparently the whole Prince Charming type manners do have a statute of limitation."

"I know," she breathed, "I know. It's just—I'm tired of the three of us having such a fractured relationship."

"I am too," he responded quietly, dropping Joey's gaze. She felt him tense, and he dropped his hand from her hair. Kissing his hair, she ran a hand up and down his shoulder.

* * *

><p>First of all, so sorry it's taken me so long to update. Life has been crazy. But more importantly, thank you so much to everyone who read andor reviewed! It means so much. And also, I promise that starting next chapter, the plot will pick up. I'm still trying to feel out the characters, and understand their personalities. So please tell me how I'm doing!

_Reviews are love!_


	3. How to Lose and be Lost

_Simple Act of Loving You_

_Three_

'_How to Lose and be Lost'_

The Icehouse was quiet for a Saturday afternoon. It was silent with the weight of recent death, and soundlessly buzzing with memory. Tragedy still stained the tables and chairs, and soured the food. There was nothing Pacey could do but lean heavily on the bar table, and try desperately to hear something; _anything. _But there was nothing—there were no more words to be said, and the world seemed to be returning to its usual order. _How dare it_. Jen was just a blimp on Earth's large canvas of life; Pacey knew that. But even in a microcosm like Capeside, she was swiftly being forgotten. It unnerved him how easily things could be swept under the rug, or taken by the tide—there was no security in anything. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was freefalling, with something to actually lose. _Someone _to lose.

Wringing the rag he'd been wiping down tables with, he looked at the tables with occupants. There was something easing about the noncommittal interactions he had with customers. He didn't feel like he could destroy them with one touch—because there was nothing to destroy. But when it came to the people like Joey and Dawson, there was everything to be lost, everything to be annihilated. With them, destruction wasn't even the biggest threat. Minimal damage was the best he could hope for. It made him fear intimacy. But like Jen taught him: this life was all he got. He could not walk around, scared of destruction. Because when things are destroyed, they are rebuilt—and better than they had been before. He hoped with all of his being, that that was the case with him and Joey. It had to be.

Running a hand through his hair, and knew he was chasing logic and fear around in circles in his head. It was the curse of being quietly alone with his own thoughts. Pain stained thoughts were dangerous things. Dropping the rag he'd been fiddling with back on the table, he saw someone coming into the Icehouse.

Dawson.

Pacey's entire body tensed, without him really even noticing. It had become a gut reaction. Years of playing the antagonist in Dawson's life had made him combative; defensive. Liking his lips, he breathed in deeply. Pacey could see the war paint Dawson had metaphorically drawn on his face. There were just some things that could never die—and in this case, it's the one thing Pacey wished would. It seemed like a distant memory when he and Dawson had been friends; a time he had become both nostalgic for, and bitter towards. The entire thing seemed like some cruel fiction, made to make his current situation all the more stark.

"Dawson," Pacey began tightly, gripping the bar table tightly. His knuckles rapidly grew white, and his muscles strained to keep up the impression of blasé. "What can I do for you?" The question sounded stupid the second the words came out of his mouth, but he couldn't think of what else to say.

"What do you think you're doing Pacey," Dawson returned, lips frowning in discontent. His hazel eyes glistened with what could only be described as hate.

"You're going to have to be a little more specific here, man," Pacey said tiredly. He knew what Dawson was going to say—he could already hear it in his head. The same thing Dawson always confronted him about. Round and round and round they went, fighting the same fight, even after the war was over—even when there truly was no war.

"The first chance you get, you steal Joey back. It doesn't matter that she only came here for my mother's wedding, or that Jen is gone. All that matters to you is that you got what you wanted. I can't believe I actually thought for a moment that things had changed. That we'd gotten past this whole love triangle thing. I guess you can just chalk it up to my 'peter pan syndrome' as you've so tenderly called it."

"Slow down a minute, Dawson. Not that I have to explain myself, but I didn't _steal _anyone—"

"No, of course not; because 'friends don't steal from friends'; they _borrow_. Do you know how ridiculous that is, Pacey? All you've done is steal."

"And do you know how ridiculous you sound right now, Dawson?" Pacey shot back bitterly, as he made his way to his office. If he and Dawson were going to have this conversation, it was not going to be in the middle of his restaurant. He might not be able to choose the fight, but he was damn well going to choose the venue.

"Enlighten me, Pace. You've never held back before; might as well not change now," Dawson said, the fire and vengeance growing in his voice. Though they had had this fight many a time, it felt fresh this time. Things were different—a five year silence and a friend dying can do that to an argument. Neither man could lose sight of that: it was plastered angrily all over their hearts and bodies.

Closing the door to his office as quietly as his temper could manage, he turned tiredly to meet Dawson's malicious gaze. "I don't know how to drive this home; you never quite seem to get it. Joey can't be _stolen_; she's not some possession. You're not angry because I'm with her; you're angry because you think I stole your memories right along with her. But I don't want your memories, or your history. You can keep that. Pseudo-platonic, over before it started love affairs don't mean anything to me. All I want is to be with Joey; to be a part of her future. You're so stuck in the past Dawson that you can't even see reality for what it is. Recreate history in _The Creek _as much as you want, but it won't do anything for you here."

"You're not a part of her future. You're just as delusional as you think I am, if you truly believe that. Back in New York, she has a life; a job; _someone_. Has she told you she's willing to give all that up? To drop everything to be with you? Mr. I've Lived in Capeside My Whole Life?" Dawson watched Pacey's eyes flicker to the ground, and he nodded curtly, as if to prove his point. "No, of course she hasn't. I might be stuck in the past, Pacey, but you're stuck in a future that can't happen."

"Look, Dawson, we're hurting each other here, more than we're proving whatever stupid point we were trying to. No matter how much we claim we're over the triangle, that's obviously not the case. Joey will always be a source of tension. That's just how it's going to be. And I know that not having her hurts; it hurts more than any pain imaginable. But Joey has to make her own choice, without pressure from either of us."

"If you're looking for absolution, I have none to offer. It's easy for you to talk like this, Pacey, because she's with you for the time being. But if our roles were reversed, I could guarantee you'd act no different than I am now. We're both selfish and stubborn, and nothing's going to change that. I think we need to stop pretending that things can get better between us." Dawson's voice almost cracked, and Pacey's heart tightened at the sound. He didn't want to lose hope that they could salvage their friendship—but Dawson's words sounded like goodbye. It was a goodbye Pacey had expected, and to an extent, desired. But as the words were finally said, he wanted to take it all back. _Be careful what you wish for_.

"If that's what you think," Pacey said quietly. "But what I told you right after your dad passed away still holds true: Anytime, anywhere, any place, forever. I'm here. I'm ready to take another stab at this friendship. God knows we're both capable of it; it's just a matter of wanting to. So, sure; I'll stop pretending things will get better—but I won't lose hope."

Dawson stared at him, unable to get a sound past his lips. All of his words died on his tongue; it became a graveyard of things he yearned to say, but couldn't muster the strength to. And so, he simply stared at Pacey, stunned by his perseverance, and what seemed to be genuineness.

"Alright, well, thanks for stopping by," Pacey continued awkwardly, trying to brush off the intensity that filled the room. The jokester in him was begging to find its way to the surface; the nonchalant remarks resting on his lips. "I uh, I have to get back to work. But, you know where to find me, should you want to."

Walking past Dawson, he opened the door quietly, and left before he could bring himself to say something else. The blonde's form haunted him from behind, and it was then that Pacey truly realized that he could never quite escape his past. It was there, for better or worse, forever.

* * *

><p>"No, no, just email it to me. I can't come to the office—" Joey paused, listening to her colleague's response. "I took off for the wedding, and then—" she fell silent again. "Yes, I know it's important; but I can edit it just as easily from Capeside as I can from the office." Again Joey yielded to the person on the other end of the phone, and nodded. "Okay, thank you, Claire. I'll be back in New York soon. Take care."<p>

She threw her cell phone onto the dining room table, collapsing into one of the chairs with a sigh. Rubbing her temples, she knew she couldn't stay in Capeside much longer. Life was banging on the door, reminding her that she had responsibilities and a routine to get back to. But no matter how hard she tried to consider leaving, being in Capeside felt right too. Being in Pacey's house, treating it as her own as well, felt right.

"Was that the office again?" Pacey asked, leaning in the doorway. Of course he knew it had been; he could hear the whole conversation from the kitchen. But a strange wave of guilt kept him from expressing that to Joey.

"Yeah. There's this book that's quickly approaching its deadline, and it's still not entirely edited. They make such a big deal about it; you'd think I was drafting the peace agreement between Israel and Palestine." Joey shook her head, laughing tiredly. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, she followed Pacey's movements, as he took a seat next to her. Gently he wrapped his arm around her. Breathing in his scent, she couldn't remember how she had lived so long without this. Without someone who understood her, despite her saying practically nothing.

"To them it is, I guess. And to your bank account, it most certainly is," Pacey chuckled. Joey nudged him softly, but still smiled. "But you'll get it done. You always do."

"I know," she said slowly, as she removed her head from the crook of his neck, "but it's more than that. When I got the job, I thought it was going to give me some freedom. You can edit anywhere, and easily email it. I never really expected I'd be bound to a tiny cubicle, with a chair that's lost all of its support."

Pacey nodded, the guilt building up in his stomach. He knew the words he was about to ask were not ones of comfort, but rather means for argument, but he couldn't keep quiet. Dawson's words from earlier hung over him. "Jo, what are we?"

Joey looked at him, confusion furrowing her brow. "What do you mean?"

"I just mean, what is this between us? Is it a relationship? A relationship with a future? Or just a fling?"

"Where is this coming from, Pace? This morning, everything seemed fine." Crossing her arms, she leaned back in order to take in all of his body language. He seemed shaken; like they were back where they had been before their talk in the kitchen, at Jen's wake.

"Everything was fine," he saw her eyes glaze over in worry. "Everything is fine," he corrected, "it's just that—Dawson came to the Icehouse today. And like usual, I let him get to me. All I want to know Jo, is, do we have a future? Are you in this for the long haul?" He instinctually held his breath, half expecting her to shake her head, accompanied by a tragic 'no'.

"Of course I am," she said, taking hold of his hand. It was cold. "Pacey, whatever Dawson said, it doesn't matter. I love you, and want to be with you. Not just for today, or tomorrow, or next week; I'm banking on forever, here." She smiled at him shyly, running her thumb over the wristband of his watch. Pacey couldn't help but relax at her words. They were all he ever wanted to hear.

"But logistically," he couldn't stop himself from saying, "how will we do it? You have a job in New York; I have the Icehouse here. We can't be in two places at once, now can we?" He took his hand from hers, and ran it over his chin. Again, he was destroying things. Afraid of that contact.

"No," she conceded, "we can't. So, we pick. You mean more to me than some editing job in a loud city, and I hope that I mean the same to you."

"I'd trade this life for you in a second, Jo, you know that."

Joey smiled brightly at him, taking his hand back in hers. She knew years of uncertainty sat between them, but that shouldn't stop them from having a confident future. "So, Capeside or New York?" She raised an eyebrow, almost playfully.

"You worked hard for that job, Jo. It's why you studied yourself to exhaustion in high school and college. I won't take that from you. I couldn't take that from you."

"But the Icehouse," she returned quietly, not meeting his gaze. "I can't watch you walk away from that. You _own _a restaurant, Pace—no matter how much you deny it, you're a success."

"If we keep doing this, we'll talk ourselves in circles," he said. Joey nodded in agreement, sighing in thought. "I want you to decide. I can take a train to Capeside from New York, if I have to."

"You'd really do that?" The look in her eyes was the only convincing Pacey needed. He knew relocating to New York wasn't the best of ideas; a three hour train ride most mornings to Capeside would be absolutely draining and inconvenient. But it was a sacrifice he'd be more than willing to make,

"I'd do anything for you, Jo," he said, "and besides, it's time I put some action behind my words. I've always hated the fact I've lived in Capeside my whole life. Now I'm doing something about that; and with the woman I love. There's nothing to even debate." Before he could even get the last word out, Joey was already wrapping her arms around him eagerly, burying her head in his shoulder. He accepted her embrace warmly, playing with the ends of her hair.

"I think I love you, Pacey Witter," she told him, raising her head to meet his blue eyes. A playful smile made its way onto her lips, and he could hear her words from years past echoing in his head.

"You think, or you know?" Pacey asked in amusement, mirroring her smile. Biting her tongue between her teeth, she ran her fingers through his hair, before placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

"I know," she whispered in his ear, before leaning her forehead against his.

* * *

><p>Let me start off by saying how sorry I am it took me <em>so <em>incredibly long to update. Wow, I am so sorry, everyone! And also, I am so sorry for this chapter. My creativity level is extremely low, and the result is this really terrible chapter. I hope it was tolerable, though. And also, _please send me your ideas_! I'm in desperate need of plotlines! Thank you all for bearing with me through this dry spell I'm going through. But I'm on summer break now, so updates should be much quicker, much longer/detailed, and hopefully much better!

_Reviews are love!_


End file.
